


I Got You Babe

by schmaslow



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Fluff, Frottage, In Public, M/M, Non-Explicit, POV Second Person, Singing, james is overwhelmed with feelings, kendall is beautiful, pretty much fluffy pwp, with smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmaslow/pseuds/schmaslow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Kendall has this goofily proud smile on his lips, panting slightly, cheeks flushed from the heat or the run up here, his hand held out, expectant. He mutters soft, but victoriously firm, "Found it." </p>
<p>His sandy fingers uncurl as you pull yourself up to see and the sun gleams off this uncracked and brilliantly colored shell that twists and turns like some sort of bullshit art structure at a fancy museum. You can't help the fond smile that spreads across your face, but you raise your eyebrows, disbelieving.</p>
<p>"You're ridiculous, you kept us from hamburgers for a shell?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Got You Babe

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started out as a Kendall imagine I'd sent my friend to torture her - but ultimately ended up making us both cry. I really liked it and decided I wanted to keep writing. Then it turned Kames- oops. It stayed in second person POV, though, because it just came out that way and I didn't want to change anything so, ta-da. Have a kinda (really) sappy-fluff rendition of beach frottage.
> 
> (05/07/15: So, I came back to tweak this a bit and. Am I laughing at how sappy this is or at how sappy this is. GUYS.)

* * *

_  
I got you to kiss goodnight_

_I got you to hold me tight_

_I got you, I won't let go_

_I got you to love me so_

* * *

"Babe! Hurry it up, I'm _starving_ ," You yell, stomach grumbling to back you up.

Kendall's face turns up from the water, searching along the sand until his eyes land on you. He calls back, smirking, a finger held high.

"One more minute?" Half begging, apologetic. You sigh, rolling your eyes, choosing to lay back on the towel below you instead of giving a response. 

The sun glares down, in the good way, perfect. The kind you can feel baking your skin, can feel it turning you golden - or in Kendall's case, red. You close your eyes against it, watch your eyelids glow bright as you wait, toes pawing where your towel doesn't reach.

The cool of a shadow passes over your face, makes you squint up at the figure hovering above you.

And Kendall has this goofily proud smile on his lips, panting slightly, cheeks flushed from the heat or the run up here, his hand held out, expectant. He mutters soft, but victoriously firm, "Found it." 

His sandy fingers uncurl as you pull yourself up to see and the sun gleams off this uncracked and brilliantly colored shell that twists and turns like some sort of bullshit art structure at a fancy museum. You can't help the fond smile that spreads across your face, but you raise your eyebrows, disbelieving.

"You're ridiculous, you kept us from hamburgers for a shell?" A breathy laugh.

Kendall's smile drops a bit but that gleam in his eye that screams 'I just rode my bike with no training wheels, Mom!' stays put. 

You reach out for your gift, hand staying on top of his as you grasp it, "Such a five-year old," you mutter, but it comes out like a thank you. It must, because suddenly the sun doesn't seem so blinding anymore next to the beaming of Kendall's lips pulled taut across his teeth in a ' _you're welcome_ ' or more likely a ' _yeah, I knew you'd like it._ ' 

It almost aches - no, it does - when you stare up at him in that moment. Because, hell, how can someone be so- is it even possible that something can _shine_ so- because Kendall is just absolutely-

"Beautiful," you whisper. 

Kendall's eyes go wide, confused, or embarrassed, or modest like he can't possibly understand how wonderful someone thinks he  _really_  is. Always so confident, always so proud until..

Then he schools his face back, a half-hearted smirk taking the previous emotion's place as he plops down cross-legged next to you.

He hums, begins to draw patterns into the sand stuck to your legs, absentminded, "Beautiful, huh?"

You say nothing, just watch the way his finger rolls across your skin, the rough feel of gravel as it slides along with it, sun shining off of it the same way it does with Kendall's hair, golden against golden, like it belongs there.

Your lips twitch, begging to do something - anything - that worships the view in front of you. You force them still.

Kendall looks up at you, amused, challenging, like it's all a joke when he tugs at the wind-blown, salt-infused mess you've been staring at, "Even right now?" 

And you lean forward, eyes roaming over his face, taking in everything, hand still curled around the shell he'd retrieved. It's dazzling,  _he's_  dazzling, and even as the ocean sparkles beside you, and the sand rolls like diamonds beneath you and for miles where a million of earth's creatures burrow and  _thrive_ and new life is born every millisecond into a world where there's a never-ending amount of beauty to discover..

You couldn't think of anything more gorgeous than the man blushing under your gaze.

"Especially," you breathe, "right now."

Kendall swallows, his eyes darting around to search for prying ones but your lips are already on his, the tang of the beach, the salt of the sea bursting across your tongue and you take it in, free hand moving to bury itself in his hair like one of the hermits in the sand Kendall'd kept bringing ashore.

And kissing Kendall's like tasting anything and everything wonderful in the world. 

He sighs against your lips, fingers gently latching to your side as you deepen the kiss, tongue darting along his bottom lip, bringing images of sunsets and couples on boardwalks, wood creaking beneath sandals as they smile at each other, pictures of gift shops filled with the cliche knickknacks, bathing suits, sunblock, postcards of the place you've lived your whole life, no one caring you're half-naked and getting their carpet sandy, and over-priced ice cream that melts too soon in the blazing heat. It's all there, perfectly unsmoothe against your mouth, and you'd laugh or cry if you weren't already busy with something else, like sliding your tongue between Kendall's parted lips and pushing your own shirtless torso towards his until he's falling backwards, gasping.

"We can't - h-hey, not here," he pants, making no move to stop you as you shift to kiss down his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

"There's no one even around," you murmur against beach-stained skin, as if you know, which is impossible seeing as you haven't taken your eyes off Kendall since- how long has it been anyways?

You can feel the hesitation, see the way he opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but all that comes out is a strained whimper.

Your lips return to his in a reassuring kiss, "I've got you, babe."

He lets out a shaky breath, nodding slightly, but sure, lets you return to worshiping down his torso, nuzzling the small pudge of his stomach as you hear him start muttering the lyrics to Sonny and Cher's " _I Got You Babe._ " And you chuckle against his skin because he sings when he's nervous or excited and it's the cutest thing to you. You don't know all the words but you join in between kisses, listening to his breath hitch, the stutter of a line every once in a while.

" _And when I'm sad, you're a clown. If I get scared, you're always-_ " A sigh, ". _.a-around_."

You slide back up to him, meeting his too green eyes, watching his lips wrap around the second verse, form the music. Your forehead presses to his, your hand curling around his thigh to hitch it up to your own, whispering a part you know, " _Then put your little hand in mine_ ," before rolling your hips down.

The chorus cuts off, but music still fills your ears as your moans intertwine. Kendall's head pushes back against the sand, body arching.

Fingernails dig deep into shoulders as you grind against him a second time, slow -  _tortuously_  slow, but you want this to last forever. You can feel him through his ocean-soaked swim shorts, making you want and want and _want_. He is noisy below you, trying to speed up the pace, move you faster,  _more_ , and it takes all your control to hold off when he's this writhing mess, rutting against you -

You squeeze your eyes shut, hush into his hairline and you can practically hear him clench his teeth in frustration.

"I said, I got you," You smile lightly, and green eyes narrow.

"I'll feel better when you can add ' _off_ ' to that," He snarks, teasing, breathless, grip tightening at your shoulder. 

You hum, appreciative, eyes raking over him as your hand slides to grasp his hip.

Your lips whisper against his, declaring, "Naughty," Emphasizing the word with a forceful thrust that has Kendall's mouth gaping open in a silent moan, eyelids fluttering, fingers moving to scrabble at the sand, searching for purchase where it's impossible to find.

You bury a groan into the side of his neck, start a rhythm against him, hitching his leg up higher, trying to get as much friction as possible. Skin glides against skin, the damp material of your shorts rustling with his, the sound mixing with the groans and pants coming from both your lips. It's all  _heat_  and  _not enough_  and _fuck it_ if anyone's within distance, your body is  _begging_  for more contact so you ignore the indignant yelp when you slide Kendall's shorts down just enough to pull him out and stroke until he's on the edge of falling to pieces and it's beautiful beautiful  _beautiful._

So it's absolutely gorgeous when you slide your own waistband down to bring the two of you together and - 

Kendall cries out, loud so you can hear it, loud battling the roar of the waves, and you have to muffle your own sounds against the plush of his lips. You slow slightly, time your movements with the crashes of water up the sand, the rhythm faltering as you both get nearer, closer, and you pull back to watch his face - insanely and impossibly breathtaking - until you shudder and come undone over the sand and his torso. You bite at his neck, grunting, riding it out as you help him fall over that edge, your name being sung like a classic on the radio. 

You breath, in, out, lay there on top of him coming down as sweat beads beneath your lips and you kiss it away. A laugh sounds in your ear.

"It was just a shell," and you smirk in the shadows of his neck before moving to tuck both of you in and its sticky - sticky from sweat and sticky from Kendall and sticky from you - but you don't care, not when that smiles back and beaming up at you, lazy and full.

Your heart flutters, ridiculous and endearing, and you pinch his cheek like a relative, voice cooing like you would towards a child, "Yes, and Daddy loves it very much,  _schnookums._ " Kendall pouts, swats your hand away as you keep up with the ' _so pretty_ 's and ' _good job_ 's until he is rolling out from under you and running back towards the sea.

And you chase him, tackling him into the water, splashing around like you're kids again and, of course, somehow, Kendall wins your undeclared wrestling match. He claims his prize with a swoop of his lips against yours and you can't take it, can't take the feeling searing and fluttering your insides like some school girl, so you focus on another feeling in your stomach.

"Alright, alright, you win-"

" _Always_."

"-always win, I get it. Now let's go - I'm still starving," You drag him up the shore, before telling him to "Grab your shell, Mister Explorer. We're leaving." 

He laughs, picking it up and placing it in your palm, like it belongs  _there_ , and there only, "You mean  _your_  shell, Mister Sore Loser."

You glance down at your hands, and the shining piece of beach between your fingers, slowly curling them around it, protective, like the whole world is out to get it. And in a way, it kinda is - when they live in a place so coveting and destructive of beautiful things.

And anything from Kendall is never anything less than beautiful. 

"Yeah," you breathe, fervent, "..my shell."


End file.
